Three Yesses and a No: Fly on the Wall

 

 Welcome to a monthly Fly on the Wall group post. Today 2 bloggers are inviting you to catch a glimpse of what you’d see if you were a fly on the wall in our homes. Come on in and buzz around my house. At the end of my post you’ll find links to this month’s other participants’ posts.

College Boy walks in the house:

Me: Hi!

College Boy: What are you up to today?

Me: I need to get a couple of blog posts written. Do you want to write the poem, or the other one.

College Boy: I'll write the invisible one.

 

 

I was putting the clothes into the washing machine when Hubs started a conversation from the kitchen. Distracted, I walked in to finish the conversation.

An hour later the laundry should have been done for a while, had I missed the chimes?

Hubs was in the laundry room putting on his shoes (our lockers are there too), when I came in.

Me: Is the laundry done?

Hubs (pressing the start button): Helpful hint, it works better if you turn it on.

Oh, good to know.

I wrote a post, just a couple of days ago, about an issue we'd had with ants, and what we did to try to get rid of them.

One of those attempts was about something I'd read, that ants don't like cinnamon or vinegar.

College Boy came home in the middle of it all, not knowing what was going on, while I was standing on the landing with cinnamon and vinegar.

College Boy (coming up the stairs): What are you doing?
Me: I'm sprinkling cinnamon on the windowsill, then I'll spray with vinegar.

College Boy (walking away): Mom?

Me: Yeah?

College Boy: NO.

Me: No what?

College Boy: Whatever you're making? I'm not eating it.

I get all kinds of solicitations, people who want me to promote their products, publish their stories, or feature them on the Baking In A Tornado FB page.

I rarely respond at all, but sometimes, they really just make me angry. These are the ones that are sent by marketers who have clearly never read my blog.

And if I'm in a mood, I just might answer. Like the message the other day, in which they complimented my pictures, and especially my style. They then suggested that based on what they see, my posts would be a perfect fit for promoting their sunglasses.

To which I responded "which of my recipes were you thinking of putting the sunglasses on?" 

I was using the grill quite a bit and planned to use it again that night, so I asked Hubs to check the propane level. It was low.

Fortunately, it was one of the days that Hubs wasn't going to go into the office. He had actually planned on going to the hardware store, and they have a propane tank swap, so he'd do that at the same time. Perfect.

He left to do his errand, and I went out onto the back deck to water my plants. While there, I noticed that the propane tank was still attached to the grill. Well, unless he's planning on carrying propane gas in the palm of his hands . . .

Hubs comes home, goes out on the deck and comes back with the tank. As he heads out the door (again):

Hubs: You do not see me. I am not here.

Me: But I have so much to say.

Hubs: Who you?

Me: How old do you have to be to . . .

Hubs (as he's shutting the door to the garage): I'm not here!

Damn, and I worked so hard on those sarcastic comments, too.

Spiked Apple Topping

I was in the kitchen emptying the dishwasher, Hubs was in the den with the TV on, the Red Sox were about to play.

I could see the TV from the kitchen, and when I looked up, I saw they had a picture of one of our pitchers up on the screen, featuring him. As I looked down below the picture, I started to yell.

Me: OMG, OMG, what happened to him?
Hubs: What's the matter, what are you so upset about?
Me: Look at the graphic, it says RIP Kluber. What happened?

Hubs: Put your glasses on, it doesn't say RIP, it says RHP. You know, right handed pitcher?

Me: Oh. Never mind.

Often, when I sit down to read, I know I have other things I need to get done, like starting dinner. So after I finish a chapter, I look to the bottom left of my reader to see how long the next chapter is and decide whether to stop, or read one more.

Yesterday evening, I finished chapter 20, and wanted to see if I had enough time to read chapter 21 before prepping dinner. 

I'm gonna need an IV and a diaper if I'm gonna read that chapter in one sitting.

 

A little PSA, apparently some (embarrassing) clarification is required. A friend, I later found out, came to the front door, but never rang the bell.

Just so we don't have this issue again, let me tell you that if you come to visit and hear me yelling "YES, YES, YES," check to see if the Red Sox are on. If so, I'm celebrating the ecstasy of a home run.

Sorry for the misunderstanding . . .

College Boy: Hey mom, what are you doing for dinner? Maybe I'll join you.

Me: Remember that brisket we didn't like . . .

College Boy (interrupting): That's a NO.

Me: But . . .

College Boy (interrupting again): There isn't a "but" in the world that would help that sentence.

And yes, I really didn't approach selling it in the right way.

Back story, FYI: I buy a few premade foods now and then, my "emergency dinners," for when I'm not feeling well, or the day just gets away from me.

I had bought a package of sliced brisket in a whiskey glaze that we liked, but this time the flavor was way off, very vinegar forward. Instead of throwing it away, I froze it so I could think about whether I could "fix" it. I came up with a plan and decided to give it a try.

It was actually really good once I counteracted the vinegar and added a few other ingredients. Oh well, College Boy's loss.

 

Another day, another Red Sox game. One of our batters was up. Although he's a great player, he'd always swung at pretty much everything, either hitting the ball or striking out.

 

This year, though, he's been a little more discerning. In this particular game, he seemed to have reverted to his old habits.

Hubs: There he goes, swinging at everything.

Me: I'm surprised, lately he's gotten really good at watching his balls.

OK, I probably could have worded that better . . .

 

 

Now click on the links below for a peek into some other homes:

Menopausal Mother

Spiked Apple Topping

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Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
2 apples of your choice

1 TBSP butter

1/2 tsp apple pie spice blend

1/2 tsp cinnamon

2 TBSP brown sugar

1 TBSP Fireball whiskey or Jim Beam Apple Bourbon

2 TBSP caramel syrup

NOTE: To make this topping alcohol free, substitute apple juice for the whiskey or bourbon

OPT: use to top cake, blondies, cookie bars, pie, ice cream, pancakes, French toast, and more

Directions:
*Core, peel, and chop the apples.

*In a medium sized skillet, over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the apples, apple pie spice, cinnamon, and brown sugar. Cook, stirring now and then, just until the apples start to soften, about 10 minutes.

*Shut off the heat but leave the skillet on the burner. Add the whiskey or bourbon and the caramel syrup. Stir until well mixed in.

*Remove from heat and serve over your favorite breakfast or dessert.

*NOTE: cover any leftovers and refrigerate. To serve again, warm briefly in the microwave.